A fictional story, as a salute to the brave men and women who risk life and limb every winter in the angry North Pacific Ocean. At some point it might become a song. Break out the violins.

Pacific Trawler

They set out early, before the dawn
To catch their bounty, and head for home
Their nets unfurling, now steaming strong
Hold fast the heading, for journey’s long
Rolling out lines now, sonar green glow
They hit good fishing. They pray it holds

 Through fog and fury
They taunt the storm
These men of ages
Through reef and swarm

Late winters fury, this icy blast
Rotating inwards, and moving fast
Rolling through sixty, Al-as-ka bound..
This deep nine-fifty, rolls East and down
The swells are building, salt pushed like nails
Roaring through Sandspit, this driving gale

Through fog and fury
They taunt the storm
These men of ages
Through reef and swarm

The pressure dropping, now reeling fast
Lives in the balance, their fate is cast
Passing Cape Scott now, this winter storm
Building and brewing, a beast reborn
Their holds are brimming, hull riding low
Huge wave from starboard, the deadly blow

Three hours to port now, To-fi-no bound
Pacific Trawler, will not be found

Through fog and fury
They taunt the storm
These men of ages
Through reef and swarm
Six generations
They drove the waves
Six hundred fathoms
Their watery graves